Knee Deep in the Dead
by Kabal91
Summary: Out of darkness, cometh light." Darkness & morale may have completely swarmed the Earth as we know it, but the human spirit & will to survive still remains. Marcus Kabal, a former deadbeat citizen, becomes a reluctant leader and perhaps savior, of life.
1. Chapter 1

**D is For Dead **

**-By Nathan Misa.**

_**Prologue.**_

**"**...**Life."**

Precious... Precious...

**Life.**

Everything which makes us all.

Everything which everyone lives.

Everything which everyone will never understand to the fullest.

Tell me something...

What _**are**__,_ the best things and aspects in and of **life**?

Materialistic luxuries?

Familial relations?

Friendship?

Lust?

**Love?**

Or, perhaps, the _gift_ of **life** itself?

The preciousness of it.

Why is it that nearly all things that are given **life** never truly value how precious and dear it is to all of us... and throw it away?

Why is that the good values, aspects and "morality" of **life**, are never appreciated by the majority of the world? Why is it that, in every situation and choice, there is always that fine line between being good or evil, and the hesitation to choose?

Why are there bad things in this world that have been given **life**, yet throw their own away or take other's like it was nothing?

What **is** even **good** or **evil**? Is there even an aspect of "morality" at all?

Or all we all just **damned **like the rest?

Please tell me, or try and respond, without your pokerface; like, straight up honestly, that you didn't take life for granted, even a little bit.

...Yeah. Thats what I thought.

Like all bad people... like all selfish and ignorant and stupid people... I took it for granted.

When there were people out there suffering, dying, making a difference… I turned a blind-eye. When there were wars; acts of terrorism; poverty; and chaos…

I turned away.

Because of my own selfish reasons. Mistakes. Guilt from past experience. I drowned myself in depression, ignorance... not to mention liquor, while I could have done something about it. Moved on with life, and become a better person.

But no. I didn't. Whenever people around me needed anything from me, I didn't do shit if I didn't feel like it. Whenever bad things happened in the world that didn't affect me directly, now that I think of it, I probably subconciously always said to myself...

"Better **them** then **me**."

Heh.

You know… it's funny.

It's taken an absolute _massacre_; a horrific "**cleansing**"; a hellish _**Apocalypse**_... and all the other terms used to describe the oblivion striking all over our greedy, violent, uncaring world... to make me wake up. Stare and see, and realize… that what's happened... humankind had definitely had it coming. All the sins... all the disregard... It was people like me who fucked this shit up, and let the few good ones die. Now, the higher, god-like powers of the world have had enough… and they want all people like me to suffer, for all the sins and all the horrible things we've done to each other. Done to ourselves. They don't care if the few good ones get swept away in the storm because, quite frankly... they're probably nearly all dead by now anyway.

I never believed in Religion, back in my "normal" life. I laughed in sarcasm at any mention of it. I despised Buddhism; the Satan worshipping was too freaky for me; Islamic's I looked down upon and judged all who followed that to be bad people; and finally... God.

How I always laughed at those who believed in God. Him.

He gave **life** to us, as people believe. I never was one of those people. I think to myself now, through this experience, what if it was true? Well, if it was, slowly, our minds corrupted, and we destroyed and decimated all the great reasons and things he gave **life** to us for.

Now… I try to believe. I want too. Faith is one of the few things any of us can have these days to get by. But after all this… I just can't.

But it's too late, really. It's his shot to turn the blind-eye. On his creations, humans, which he gave life too. Now eviler forces are at work.

And they will not stop till our whole world is… undead.

I don't know if I'm hallucinating or anything, because this fuckin' room gives me the creeps to be alone in as I record this... but I fucking swear, like the first rare moment I got to rest after all this shit began... I keep seeing this dark figure.

The bastard keeps telling me the same thing. Whispering in my ear; mocking me, for what I want, yet I can't get... for my life of impurity.

"You want forgiveness? Hahahaha! Get religion…

Oh, wait. You never believed. How ironic!"

And chaotic laughter ensues.

I know I'm going insane. Normal people don't see dark figures loom in and out from every object and get calls on non-existant or non-powered phones. Only reason I'm still around is because even after all the oblivion; even after all the blood; even after all the irony... I finally understand what **life** really means when it's on the verge of being taken away from me.

After all of this... I think I finally woke up into our world.

And I regret everyday for not living my life to the fullest beforehand.

Because, no matter how hard I try, after that fateful day, things will never be the same.

And I will never have that kind of chance again.


	2. I D is for Dead

**I.- D is for Dead.**

**Remains of Westchester, few miles north-west of Chicago, Illinois.**

**3:59am, Friday, December 13th, 2012.**

**Looting run.**

**"Out of Darkness, cometh light."**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

The beginning of the end was simple to mark.

It was a full moon, that night. From my observations, and memory, it was the first one in a while. There were so many stars littering the sky. So intriguing and so distant. For once, we had some time to spare to admire them, wish we were there with them, and contemplate how safe they were. How safe they seemed. The bright, alluring lights out in space were so damn pretty and distracting, it almost beat down the immense fear we carried upon our already burdened selves for a couple of minutes. Almost. At the very least, it relieved us from it and the building stress for a few minutes.

But then, like a harsh slap to the face, the abnormal, brutal chill present in the air reminded us of the world we now lived in. The weather that night not only froze us up on the outside, but amplified the dark atmosphere already present in our already depressing last days of our lives, effectively and appropriately foreshadowing the tone for what was to come.

We just spent too much time in the wastes to promise ourselves any respite, safety, and chance of survival.

I guess in the end, it's just human nature to remember the beginning, and where it all went wrong.

God. Where did it go wrong...

It all happened so fast, yet it was so inevitable.

But then again, everything in this new hellish world of ours was.

While gazing upon the gleaming distant havens, other than the occasional insignificant distant noise, at that moment in time, it was absolutely **dead** silent. Not a **sound**. It wasn't because we were trying to sneak around again; it wasn't because the horde's were cleared out, no, quite the opposite in fact; it was so damn odd, but it was just quiet. Abnormally quiet. It was an experience I was not fimiliar with in over four years. I always wondered what I'd be like to have this kind of "peace", again. Experiencing it just then, I suddenly realized it was ten-times worse than listening to the never-ending, decaying moans and screams.

At least I knew there was still some sort of "life", around me, when there was.

I stood, silently and idly, by a back fence door in a cliche' dark, damp alleyway. Leaning against a solid brick wall, underneath layers of shadow, I was freezing my ass off, just waiting for any sign of confirmation of life.

There was no way in hell I'd forget that atmosphere. If there's one thing I can't choose to forget, it's that. Cold, dark, and terrifiying. The night's icy breeze and light snowfall was verging on being lethally brutal. If I did not possess the layers upon layers of undershirts and jackets I was wearing at the time, I probably would have died due to hypothermia. I tried to focus on other things, like planning in my head the next course of action when we hit the road again; but to no avail. I shook uncontrollably, unable to keep the pain and paranoia at bay. I kept checking down the alleyway from every direction, literally every five seconds, not content with the silence confirming safety. It wasn't just the weather which was putting me to the edge, though. The fear was definitely largely intensified by the silence, and lack of communication with any of my fellow survivors for almost half an hour. It felt like an eternity, that night. They were over-due. Ten minutes late, and I was advised to take the car and wait in the cities outskirts for a second, "safer" pick-up point. After the last few days of bloodshed and loss of light, I was feeling alone, fearful and pessimistic. This lateness did not make anything better. My heart started beating fast, again.

At this point, darkness itself, if you will, had literally and figuratively, swamped all over me. Both physically and on the inside.

Through this, however, I remained absolutely quiet and as still as I could be, just waiting for and daring the inevitable interruption of the silence to come out and play. I felt uncomfortable, being covered in the shadows, but I didn't want to make myself an open target out against the pure white snow. Then again, it was almost impossible using their own element against them, because they used it so perfectly without even trying. They could see and smell me in a second if they came passing through. I couldn't make the darkness my own. I could only wait and pray to "God" that I was lucky enough to not be noticed.

Time just went by, and the callous, cold, icy night air did not let up it's constant attack on my features. I was almost frozen solid. But then again, it didn't really bother me in the end. It was almost impossible these days for me to actually _really_ feel anything more like I used too. Like the true brutality of Winter in Ilinois.

I was too busy focused on surviving the horror's of the world. Like tonight.

After a few minutes, I shifted my position discreetly, subconsciously snarling in my head as the pains of my previous wounds kicked in at the movement of my right leg. I was running on half my maximum potential, impaired physically by a moderately wounded lower limb and a knifed left bicep, and mentally by, well... everything. The blood and death had become an everyday thing, but the psychological toll obviously remained. But, I guess in the end, I was the only one that could do it. Fit and "stable" enough to be able to remain alone and act out the get-away guy. Everyone else was too tired and scared to go solo, and they'd probably leave everybody stranded early on, or veer off the road and kill us all.

Or worse... destroy the car in the crash and let _**them **_finish us off.

I should have been happy I was taking the least risky way out of tonight's looting run. Alexis and Dwayne repeatedly reminded me of this, as they got a decent night's sleep yesterday after acting as sentries, but I just didn't feel right taking the back-burner. Ever. I was used to taking arms with the other guys, not being the fucking driver of our shit-ass bus. Besides, I was still feeling guilty after the death of Yvonne. We needed every able-bodied person to act, and it killed me to not be out there, watching my friend's back's, and that's how she got caught... but I guess Kurt would have never let me do so, regardless. Not tonight. Not now.

Sighing at the continued lack of physical presence, and filled with paranoia, I kept checking up watch every few seconds, tapping the face thinking that maybe the ice froze up the hands or battery. It was just before 4am by my knowledge. No wonder why I felt weak. The statistics and facts I learnt back in my "normal" life before this, the one about human's being at their physically and mentally weakest stage from the 3-5am mark stuck in my head all night. And it would for the duration, because it was that very fact which quite possibly saved us from total doom.

"Come on..." I muttered, with the appropriate chill evident in my tone of desperation. I finally began to move around from my spot to warm up, when my watch hit 4am, in what seemed like an eternity of the hands to move; but there was still no sign of the group. I went down the alleyway and checked my surroundings for any approaching figures from the back exit, but there was no shuffling threat. I was beginning to get significantly afraid.

I unholstered my side-arm, my revolver, and made sure it was loaded before looking over at the parked shelter.

"Alright, fuck it..." I muttered, coughing slightly. I wasn't going to wait around much longer to die alone. I was advised to go and allocate five extra minutes max, but it was impossible to me that they would take two hours without something coming up, and maintaining radio silence. I strode away from the dark alleyway through the thick snow towards the much safer, more secure looking, faithful "Betty".

Betty wasn't exactly the greatest make-shift moving shelter we could possess, but it was the best we could modify and use at the time. She served her purpose for sheltering us on the road, and she didn't guzz up as much fuel as our old RV. That one got hijacked on the highway by a couple of bandits a few weeks back. We were lucky there was a high-school nearby. Holding my revolver close, I stopped in front of the door for a moment, fiddling for my keys with a shaking hand. It was fustratingly difficult to co-ordinate which of the twenty odd-keys on our chain was the bus's one. Didn't know why we just fucking unhooked it already. Finding it with moderate struggle, I unlocked the door, jumped into the driver's seat, and started her up.

It was the first bit of noise I had heard for over an hour. There was a slight, evident oddity in the engine's usual enthusiastic start-up, probably due to the cold, but she still heated up as normal. I gave a grim smile at that thought, not knowing what I'd do if that was not the case, and patted the front bonnet proudly.

"Good girl," I stated almost absent-mindedly, before I turned to close the door. It was only then, by poor luck, when I turned to the door did I notice the terrifiying, shuffling dark figure crawling into the bus towards me.

It didn't take long for me to react with the approriate reaction. "Holy SHIT!", I think it was. I was just in utter shock and surprise. Jumping back into the driver's seat and drawing my revolver once more, I came to the conclusion in my head that I would have liked my body to give in to the heart attack feeling like it was about to rip my chest apart, then deal with this evil for the rest of my life.

It had been a while since I'd seen one up close and personal. And he... no... _it_... was absolutely horrific.

Greyish, pale-skinned flesh; weather ravaged features; a slow, frightening walk; torn clothes with blood covering all over...

A lifeless moan ommiting from it's broken mouth; bones protruding from impossible angles; a foul, inhuman stench filling the air with disgust...

But I'll never forget the eyes.

Those fucking pearly white... lifeless... eyes.

Those are what always got me.

These... zombies. These... undead... were everywhere. By now, every surviving human being would have encountered them in one way or another, and you'd expect to be expectant of the horrors. But no matter how much times I dealt with them, each and every individual monstrosity, I always could not take the disgusting, terrifying appearance each and everyone carried. _Especially_ up close and personal.

It came stumbling towards me, a soft, disturbing, lifeless moan escaping from it's lips. I cringed at it in utter fear, as I always did. This figure had a half-eaten hand in it's fucking own, munching on it like some sort of snack food, and eyeing me like I was the new main-course. I sat there, still for another five seconds as this bloody, inhuman monstrosity, demon spawn came shuffling towards me, first climbing into the bus then sticking it's arms out, as if it was ready to hug instead of bite me. Yeah, right.

After the initial shock wore off, just before it was in arm's length, I held my revolver out right in front of it's face, rather shakedly... and pulled the trigger.

Blood and gore splattered everywhere. From the driver's windscreen and the streering wheel next to me, to all over the front row of seats and it's adjacent windows. A mix of decayed blood and shriveled brain. It was a mess, I was very, very used too. After all, the only way to make sure any dead body or undead were taken out for good and didn't get back up and bite you in the back was by destroying the brain, or seperating the head from the body, or alternatively burning it. Despite this knowledge and regularity, it was still hard to take in the amount of body parts and fluids that went everywhere.

"Fucking... ah... Oh, god!" I exclaimed in horror, a tremor of fear in my voice. I collapsed back into my seat, and proceeded to whack myself in the head with my revolver, gaining a slight concussion, for my near death experience.

"So... fucking... STUPID! IDIOT! ARGH!" I yelled at myself in frustration, shock and fear. My heart was beating like crazy. I got up and kicked the now permanant corpse out of the bus down into the snow, it's blood coloring the white ground, and locked the door this time. I felt like an absolute moron for giving myself not only a heart attack and letting the bus's safety be compromised, but for even giving that lone zombie wanderer a chance to infect me. There was absolutely no noise outside until I started the engine, and I hadn't thought that maybe I wouldn't hear any subsequent sound or lure potential threats with the engine until after I nearly had my final heart-attack, about to be eaten alive and die all alone. Fucking dumbass, I was.

You always have to be alert and ready for anything in this world we live in now. That night was no exception, and I nearly paid the price for it.

I slumped into the driver's seat and tried to slow down my out of control heart pace. It was nearly killing me. There was not much time for me to recover, however, because a few minutes later my makeshift comm-unit went off, and the voice of Kurt, the group leader, came hissing through static.

"...Kurt here! Fuck, Marcus, pick up the damn phone!... Where the fuck are you?!" His voice had evident frustration and a pang of fear within it. Anxious.

I slammed my hand down on the reply button, irritated. I spoke slowly and purposely, making my annoyance clear.

"What do you mean **where the fuck am I**?!I'm still behind 45th, Kurt! Waiting for your asses! I had to deal with a straggler! Nearly bit-"

I stopped midsentence as I heard large bouts of gunfire, and some screaming and yelling in the background. It sounded like Alexis and Paul. There was some shuffling noise, but there was an eventual reply.

"...there were Walkers in the area, we got caught by surprise... most of us are alright, we got the supplies, but Jenny's got a leg wound, and... and... hold up a sec... OVER THERE, BY THE SEDAN!"

A couple of gunshot sounds followed from Kurt's exclamation before he continued in a more hurried tone. "We can't go back there, Marcus. They came up the main road and if we even try and run through that, we'll be torn apart. That's where we lost Jarrod, he didn't listen. We've all made it to the sports hall..."

Speech discontinued with the sound of arguing, then the more rugged, rough, husky voice of Paul came on the comm. "Marcus, listen to me, it's real simple; get your ass down here ASAP, and **COME FUCKING PICK US UP!**"

"Oh, jesus..." I whispered, my heart beginning to race again and a headache becoming apparent. "Oh god... what..what about Jarrod? We can't just leave him! Jenny and Rose will be-"

"**Fuck** him!" Paul yelled back bluntly, emphasis on the 'fuck'. "He was an idiot to run off alone; I don't want to die with him in this shithole! Pick us..."

Static ensued, and the line was hazy before becoming terminated.

I put down the comm, and panic swept over me. I attempted to take a deep breathe, but all I progressed too was hyperventilating myself to death. Eventually controlling my breath, and hearing the sounds of knocking on Betty's sides, I knew it was now or never.

"Here we go..." I muttered under my chilly breath, panting heavily and shifting position in the driver's seat, before revving up the engine and speeding down the snow covered road towards the survivors.


End file.
